


Starlight

by AmyNChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, iShrug, not sure if this is romantic, wondering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9802181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: Galaxies exist.  Can she live without their beauty?





	

She’s sitting up at night.  It’s happened a lot lately, especially with her friend coming over the past few weeks.  Sometimes he comes over, most times he doesn’t.  Most of the time when he does, they sit up and talk for hours.  And then there’s moments like this.

Moments when they’re sitting on her balcony, where they somehow turn her chair for one into a couch for two.  Moments where they started an activity together—reading a book, watching a video, doing a word puzzle—and he drifts off.  Moments where she doesn’t tell him to go home, doesn’t rouse him from his daze.  Moments when he falls asleep.

The first time it had happened, she hadn’t even noticed his drifting away.  She only knew his breathing had shifted into something slow and steady. Something stable and calm.

The image had jarred her, that someone so excitable could be so still.

He had apologized and had been about to swear it would never happen again, but she had interrupted him.

“We’re friends.  You can fall asleep on me, just don’t drool.”

He’d blinked.  And laughed.  And left.  And by the time he had come back, all had been normal.  Even when he fell asleep on her again three visits later.  It wasn’t nearly as awkward that time.

She sets the word jumble down, careful not to jostle his head on her shoulder.  She leans her head back slowly, easing them both into a more comfortable position.  And then, when she’s certain he’s breathing slowly and she can’t rouse him from his slumber, she looks up.

The novelty of his stillness is still somewhat new, and she has to take a break from watching him sleep otherwise she knows she’ll wonder.

And wonder.

And wonder.

So, instead, she looks at the sky.  The lights of her hometown banish many of the lesser stars into an inky abyss, allowing only the true champions of the night sky to shine through.  The milky way is nonexistent and every dot seemed white.

And it’s sad.

Her mind knows that space holds an almost infinite number of those lights.  She knows of galaxies that come in hues of purple or red, pockets of matter that give off a green tinge.  She knows of planets that come in every shape and color, along with their many moons.  She doesn’t know their names, but she knows they’re out there.

Yet even that knowledge can’t help her to imagine anything in the night sky she’s faced with besides those pinpricks of light.  Galaxies and supernovas are far off in the realm of her imagination, almost never in her field of sight.

And it somehow feels even sadder.

He shifts in his sleep and she stills for a moment.  He sometimes does that, but he’s never grabbed her while he in dreamland.  He never clung to her.  Sometimes she wonders why.  Maybe the suit helps him not to grab onto anything warm while his conscious mind isn’t online to stop him.  It’s the only explanation she allowed herself to think of.

But she knows that isn’t the only explanation there could be.

He could just not be a snuggler.

He could have some ingrained personal teaching that taught him not to hug girls in his sleep.

He could have had a reason for not latching onto anything in his sleep.

There are a million different reasons that she could give him for that one little trait, but she sticks to what she can see.  He has a superhero suit.  The night is cold and she is warm.  And he did not cling to her.  Therefore, in the suit, he must not need the temperature difference.

There.  Easy peasy.  No need to wonder about his personal preferences, what sort of habits he formed as a child, no need to wonder about the life she cannot see behind his mask.

…Frig.

She frowns a little at the boy who continues to sleep on her shoulder.  She meant what she said.  They are friends and he is allowed to feel safe around her.  He has to have some place that he can simply relax and be a normal teen.  Even _if_ he’s wearing a leather catsuit, wearing wiggling ears, has a tail that flickers around with his emotions, and wears a mask that hides his identity from her.

A black mask, covering only his cheekbones.  But it hides so much more.

A black expanse, only allowing the select few to shine.  But it hides infinitely more.

He settles down and she looks up again.  She knows that galaxies and little stars and constantly moving meteors are beautiful.  She knows that the whole sky, the entire night sky, is a beautiful whole that only a few select people get to see on rare occasions.  Some lucky souls get to see it every night.

But those souls are not her.  She must content herself with the mere black and white image before her, allow herself to be satisfied with only a few glimmers of light.  The strongest of the night sky, appearing as mere pinpricks before her eyes.  Somehow, she must find it within herself to be content with this while she knows there’s an entire night sky that she cannot see and cannot experience for herself.

And, just as always in moments like these, she decides.  She decides she can survive without galaxies and little stars and meteors, even if she may not want to from time to time.  She can exist without knowing such beauty.

She glances at her sleeping companion, the black mask still covering his face.

She knows she can exist without such beauty.  She knows she can.


End file.
